"…in form and moving how express and admirable…."

[they say you can never be too thin...]

Okay, so I’m taking a short mental health break yesterday morning at my desk—after a really rough start to the day at 8am—and I’m reading some of my favorite blogs. Lo and behold, Lora over at fever is giving me mad props as she’s thanking me for the “Honest Scrap” award. Awww, shucks girl—your welcome. I love your blog.

Lora mentioned that she started reading my blog because I’m a fellow fibromyalgic: “I love her because she lives her life despite all these things” [fibromyalgia pain, etc.] Again thanks sister…. But I started feeling guilty cause I don’t think I have much pain, like so many sufferers I know. Then the rest of yesterday happened….

Not that it was particularly bad, but it turned out to be one of those days where I “hit the wall,” as I like to put it.

I spend my day answering phones and performing other administrative tasks for a team of doctors—I don’t get to move around as much as I should. So, as I was making my way to my car at about 10 after 5, the aches started. I got home and up to my apartment and plopped in my chair. Okay—where’s the Ibuprophen? I popped 800mg [perfectly safe per my docs] and made a bowl of pasta with parmesan for dinner. It hurt to eat it.

That’s when I know it’s bad. Real bad—ya know: WallMe

All I could do was crawl into bed. I hate when I get like this—there are things I want to do, NEED to do, but I’ve run out of reserves for now and need to replenish my supply somehow.

Of course this time of year is hectic and that stresses out those of us that deal with the vagaries of fibro. Add to that the play I’m directing—it’s getting down to the wire and I just keep seeing all the things that need to get done. Thank God I have my awesome friend Alan as my A.D.

So, anyway, I understand why I hit my latest wall—and I’m trying real hard to learn how to avoid the walls, but….

I was diagnosed with this thing 15 years ago and they don’t know that much more about it now than they did then. I don’t know if I have less pain and more fatigue than others or I’ve just gotten so used to pain that it seems “normal” to me.

Oh—and: Those Lyrica commercials piss me off—they seem so condescending. And who the f wants to deal with the side-effects they spit out at 90 miles an hour at the end of the commercial.

Can’t wait to see what my “normal” will be in another 15 years…..

The worst is not So long as we can say, "This is the worst."

In other words: Count your blessings.

And I try to do that, I really do. But sometimes it is hard—really hard. When you’re tossing and turning for the 5th or 6th night in a row—and 6am is fast approaching—it’s hard. [Counting. Really.] When you're going on like the 12th day of your knee throbbing with pain cause it’s been raining for almost that long, it’s hard. [Trying to count here, people.] When you just turn your head and the disks in your neck freeze up or something so you’re holding your head at a weird angle for 5 minutes or so, it’s hard.

God—I really don’t want to sound like a whiner. So many people have it so much worse than I. I’m just saying it’s tough when you’re in the thick of things to do that count. [Seriously, counting.] Ya get hung up somewhere around 2….

For the most part, I’ve been coping with my fibromyalgia, my knee injury and other stuff pretty well. I’m generally an upbeat gal, making jokes. Cause laughter really is the best medicine—it makes me feel good to make people laugh. But, then those moments hit. Everybody gets them. We all feel overwhelmed by life sometimes. That’s when I gotta remember to start that count. And find the funny. My whole family are experts in seeing the absurd in pretty much anything. And I do mean anything....

I can make it to 3 right now: the good looking group pictured above are my son, my daughter and my grandson.